


Calling Doctor Watson

by allfandoms93



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, johnsacallboy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 10:10:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20062303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allfandoms93/pseuds/allfandoms93
Summary: John Watson is a call boy and Sherlock hires him in order to gain experience. They both get more than they bargained for.





	Calling Doctor Watson

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, so this is my first ever post. I hope you enjoy! Any feedback is appreciated!

John was retiring. The call boy business wasn’t as glamorous as it seemed and he wasn’t the same age as he had been when he had started at uni. He had decided about two months ago but it had taken him this long to break it to all of his clients. Today, he had his last appointment and he just knew this was going to be the hardest client to break the news to. He sighed as the cab pulled up to the familiar too wealthy hotel. He walked to the front desk slowly.

“John Watson here to see Sherlock Holmes.”

The blond woman smiled kindly at him, “I’m so sorry sir; we have no one under that name registered here.”

John rolled his eyes, “What about Greg Lestrade?”

The woman typed the name into the computer and looked up skeptically, “I’m sorry sir, are you sure you have the right hotel?”

The woman looked John up and down, taking in the old jeans and jumper that had been a Christmas gift. “What about Mycroft Holmes?”

The woman typed again and her eyes went wide, “Why yes, of course, I am so sorry for the confusion Mr. Watson, please follow me to the private elevator.” The woman hurried over to the corner of the large front room and scanned a keycard into an elevator reader. When it opened, John stepped in and the woman followed, holding the door open.

She presses a button and scans her card again, “The door at the end of the hallway is that of Mycroft Holmes. Have a nice visit sir.” She stepped out and the doors closed.

John rolled his eyes and settled against the back of the elevator, knowing he was headed to the penthouse. He thought back to the first time he had ever met the elusive Sherlock Holmes.  
\---------------------------------------------  
He had just finished a rather rough appointment and was limping home when he got a call from Sarah.

“John, thank God you picked up, I need you. I booked an appointment for George, forgetting that he’s out of town this week and you’re the only one left that fits the client’s preferences.”

John sighed “When’s the appointment?”

“In ten minutes”

“Sarah!”

“I’m sorry John, you weren’t picking up.”

“Sarah, I haven’t showered, I’m limping from that damned woman, and I’m still dressed as a doctor!”

But it didn’t matter and John knew it so he whistled for a cab and told the driver the address. He rolled his eyes at the sight of the hotel as he took a single step out of the cab.

Before he knew what had happened, he had been pushed back into the cab and someone had climbed in after him. A low voice says an address but John is only staring at the stranger. He is tall, thin, and yes gorgeous, but that sure as hell doesn’t give him the right to kidnap John!

“Hey!--”

“Quiet!” The man says, typing into his phone and his voice is so deep John has to shake his head to straighten his thoughts.

When the man finished texting he gave the phone to John. John looked down and his jaw dropped. How had this stranger taken his phone?

“Excu--”

“Quiet!” The man says; his hands together posed under his chin.

“No!”

Finally the man looks at John and John has to tell himself to breathe at the man’s beautiful grey eyes.

“I need to be at that hotel like ten minutes ago!”

“No need, I’m your client, Sherlock Holmes, and your name?”

“Uhm, Dexter.”

“Wrong, your first name is John. I got that from your phone, when I asked I was referring to your last name.”

“I—I don’t give out my name to clients.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes, “dull” and returns to thinking.

John sighs; glad the man’s eyes are off of him. He notices the man’s hair and wonders vaguely what it will feel like to run his hands through it. John had so many questions but where to start, “Where are we going?”

“Crime scene. I assume you are fine considering you deal with bodily fluids daily.”

“Um, look, I’ll do just about anything but only as long as it’s legal.”

Sherlock snorts but stares at John for a moment and John can see him thinking of what John has and hasn’t done. “You’re late, I have to check out a crime scene, don’t worry, I haven’t even seen the crime scene but I’ve narrowed it down to three possibilities, we won’t be there long. Then we will go back to the hotel but you already had a cab and I’m not paying you to sit in a room and wait for me.”

“How did you know it was me? You could have just jumped into a random cab.”

“Wrong, you’re wearing a doctor’s clothes but doctors don’t walk around in lab coats and stethoscopes so role-playing. You smell of women’s perfume so you have already accomplished the cause for the outfit. You pocket is bulging from cash, who walks around with that much cash? Drug dealers, which I suppose would be clever but you don’t look dangerous in any way and you have no signs of using so that’s a no. A prostitute then. Sure thousands probably find their way to that hotel but you were rushing out of the cab which meant you were late. That plus that fact that you fit the preferences I asked for, so I knew it was you.”

John sat silent for a minute before speaking, “That…was amazing.”

“You think so?”

“Of course it was. It was extraordinary, quiet extraordinary.”

“That’s not what people normally say.”

“What do people normally say?”

“Piss off.”

John smiles, “You’re with Scotland Yard then?”

“Of course not, they’re idiots.”

“Then why are we going to a crime scene?”

“I’m a consulting detective and occasionally the yard uses me when they are out of their depth which is nearly always.”

“Consulting detective…did you make that up?”

Sherlock’s mouth twitches but he doesn’t answer as they arrive at the crime scene.

Sherlock walks quickly and John follows behind, unsure. Sherlock ducks under the yellow tape and heads to the body only a few feet away on the road. John is about to follow but is stopped by a minorly attractive woman with a mean face.

“Who are you?”

“He’s my colleague” Sherlock says off-handedly as he crouches next to the corpse.

“Colleague, how do you get a colleague?”

“Enough, Sally,” an older man with grey hair approaches and lifts the yellow tape for John.

“Greg Lestrade, I’m the chief, and I’m sorry for the inconvenience but I’ll need to know your credentials before I can let you near the body. Your name?”

“John--” John pauses, unwilling to give his last name.

“Are you that oblivious Lestrade? Look at him, he’s a doctor and he’s with me.”

“Freak” Sally says under her breath but John catches and feels a surge of anger.

Of course he doesn’t understand this and shakes his head as Lestrade lets him pass.

“What do you think John?”

John looks at Sherlock, skeptical but examines the body as much as he can from a distance. Eventually he shrugs, “It looks like he jumped off the roof, suicide.”

Sherlock nods, “I agree, honestly Lestrade, are you so incompetent that you can’t spot a suicide?”

A rather mousy looking man approaches, “What about the scratches on his neck? And his clothes are all messed up.”

“Quiet Anderson; you lower the IQ of the entire street.”

“So, explain the scratches and the clothes.” Lestrade says, angry but used to the madness.

“John?”

Sherlock stares at John and John sighs, “He was coming back from a one night stand. The sex was…adventurous, the scratch. He was doing the walk of shame, the clothes. She must have rejected him.”

“How did he know that?” Anderson speaks up.

“He must be a freak, too.” Sally says.

Sherlock lets out a frustrated growl, “If you had been paying attention, you would have seen the signs too. He has scratches on this side of his neck but on the other he has lipstick smudges. There is a woman’s hair on his jacket and there is a women’s only apartment building two blocks north from here. She rejected him, or so he thought, he found the first building with open roof access and jumped. She actually did like him though so she should be calling right around--”

A phone rings and Sherlock smiles. Lestrade pulls the phone out of the dead man’s pocket and answers it. When he shakes his head at the sound of a woman’s voice, Sherlock turns and strides away. “Come along John.”

“So John Watson, does your brother know you’re a prostitute or have you successfully hidden it by always focusing on his alcoholism and his relationship with his wife?” Sherlock raises an eyebrow as they climb into a cab, “Questions?”

“Just one. Do you show off for all your prostitutes or am I just special?”

Sherlock watches John for a moment but doesn’t answer and instead busies himself with telling the cab driver the superior way to get to the hotel. John wonders what he said to make this man ignore him again but decides he doesn’t care. This man is paying him. Which reminds him—

“Um, I was distracted at first but I will need--”

“Of course, I was wondering when you’d ask.”

Sherlock fishes out a wad of cash and tosses it to John. He catches it and stares, “This is enough for all night!”

Sherlock raises an eyebrow and smiles at John, who gulps. After getting into the hotel, John follows Sherlock to a service elevator. Once inside, John places a hand on Sherlock’s arm but Sherlock shrugs it off.

“I’m sorry, have I done something?”

Sherlock looks at him, “No, but I will need you to shower and brush your teeth.”

John nods, “Germs huh?”

Sherlock snorts, “Of course not, don’t be ridiculous but I like men John, men, not men who smell and taste like women.”

John doesn’t know what to say, “I—I’m sorry, I had to--”

“Of course, it’s your job, John, do not apologize.”

“Right.”

He doesn’t know what else to say, this is by far, the strangest day he has ever had; the strangest part being how much he has liked his time with Sherlock. He had started prostituting because he needed the money and it would be a new adventure every day. Eventually, it got boring but being with Sherlock sparked his curiosity and his adrenaline. Sherlock walks quickly to a door at the end of the hall and unlocks it. John hurries in after him but stops short. The hotel room is more like an apartment. They walk into a sitting room and John has to walk around a corner to find the king size, luxurious looking bed.

Sherlock opens a door to the left, “The bath.”

John nods and enters quickly, shutting it behind him but then thinking better of it. He cracks the door open and Sherlock is nowhere to be seen, “Sherlock, did you want to shower with me?”

“Please John, don’t be absurd!”

John rolls his eyes and closes the door again. He leans against the door and huffs; it’s been a long day. The loo was huge with a glass shower and a large tub. John sighs and turns the water as hot as it goes and starts pulling off his clothes. He’s about to pull off his pants when the door opens. John gasps and covers himself as he turns.

Sherlock tilts his head, he’s holding a towel, “You know you’re a prostitute, right John?” He waits but John doesn’t speak, giving in to rolling his eyes at the man, “and yet you are still modest? The illusion of innocence disappeared when I called the hotline.” He throws the towel at John, “I used all the others for an experiment this morning.”

John catches the towel easily and when Sherlock doesn’t move he sighs, “Did you want to watch me?”

Sherlock waits a second more but whirls out of the loo in a flush of black hair and white skin, taking John’s clothes with him. John finishes stripping and gets in the shower. He thinks of Sherlock and finds himself getting surprisingly hard. He’s attracted to both men and women so he has never had a problem but at just the thought of the man? That wasn’t very usual.

He gets out without touching himself and considers whether he should put his pants back on. He picks them up and sniffs them slightly. He thinks he can smell a hint of that woman’s perfume so he drops them and wraps the towel around himself instead. He cracks the door open but sees no one. He feels his nipples respond to the rush of cold air and shrugs, figuring if anything it’ll help. He limps to the bed, angry that his leg still isn’t working right.

“I can fix that.”

John jumped at the sight of Sherlock, leaning against the wall. “What?”

Sherlock pushes off the wall and settles next to John, touching his leg like it’s nothing, “I had to go under cover in a massage parlor for a case, picked up a few things.”

He presses on John’s leg a few times and John gasps in pain but when he is finished John can stand and walk fine again.

“Amazing, Sherlock! So, did you have anything in mind? Concerning me?”

“Oh, yes.” Sherlock pulls out a piece of paper from an inner pocket and hands it to John.

John reads the list quietly and smiles slightly, “Sherlock, are these things you’ve never done?”

“Isn’t it against policy to make fun of your clients?”

“No, no, I’m not—Sherlock, I’m not making fun of you, I’m just surprised. Don’t you want to do these things with someone you trust?”

“Who better to trust than a professional?”

John chuckles to himself, “I mean someone you’ll see more than once in your entire life.”

“Sentiment. But if it will make you feel better, I plan on becoming a regular, if everything works out, obviously.”

“Sherlock, we haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Yes, but you are a mystery John Watson and I plan on keeping you around until I figure it out.”

John’s jaw dropped, “I am no mystery, Sherlock, and how did you find out my last name?”

Sherlock held out a wallet, “Picked your pocket.”

John smiles and takes the wallet, shaking his head. He looks at the list again, “well, the first one is easy enough.”

John places a hand on Sherlock’s cheek so he can bring his face to his own. Sherlock looks down and John smiles, “its okay to be nervous, Sherlock.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes, “Oh, get on with it,” and with that he presses his face into John’s, quite clumsily.

John smiles into the kiss and tilts Sherlock’s chin so they can kiss more properly. When they separate, it’s slow and takes John’s breath away. Sherlock keeps his eyes closed for a second, surprised at the kiss.

“Well?” John says expectantly.

“Interesting, though you can’t expect me to gather all the necessary information from one experience.”

John laughs, “Are you flirting with me, Sherlock?”

Sherlock smiles but it is more mocking as he leans into John again.  
\-------------------------------------  
John smiles as the elevator dings, that was so long ago.

He takes a step out and looks down the hall to where the single door is open and Sherlock stands leaning against the door jam, waiting.

As soon as John stepped out, Sherlock began marching towards him, “You’re late.”

John is about to respond but Sherlock catches up to him first and pushes John up against the wall, kissing him like there was no tomorrow. He forced his tongue into John’s mouth who welcomed it. Eventually, John had to breathe so he bit down on Sherlock’s tongue, rather hard.

“I’m always late. But I wouldn’t be if you booked the hotel by your actual name!”

“Dull.” He says ducking into John again, who giggles unwillingly.

Sherlock smiles into the kiss, “you’re giggling.”

“Piss off.” John says pushing Sherlock away and walking into the hotel room.

“You are the prostitute, aren’t you supposed to be seducing me?”

John rolls his eyes but pulls off his jumper and t-shirt underneath, dropping it on the hallway floor.

“Do you really think that’s going to work, John? Honestly, this is your job.”

John is already inside so he kicks off his trousers into the doorframe. He smiles, hearing Sherlock’s footsteps.

He wants to tell Sherlock before anything happens so he sits on the couch and pulls a pillow onto his lap. When Sherlock enters, he nearly misses John on the way to the bedroom. He pauses and takes in John from head to toe. Finally he comes to sit on the table in front of John, his hands poised under his chin.

“There is something I need to tell you Sherlock.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes, “If this has to do with money I told you I’d give you more, it’s of no use to me.”

John smiles at those deep blue eyes and looks down, his smile fading, “It’s not about money, Sherlock, it’s about my job, I’m, I’m going to--”

“Spit it out John,” Sherlock says, losing patience.

“I’m retiring from the prostitute business.”

John stares at Sherlock, trying to gauge his reaction but all he notices is a slight tightening of Sherlock’s eyes.

“Is this about that Adler client of yours? Has she asked you to go work for her?”

“Wha—” John had no idea how Sherlock knew the name of the client he had been with the day he met Sherlock. Ms. Adler paid John to test out new techniques that she could then use on her own clients as she was a dominatrix. He had broken the news to Irene last week and she had in fact offered him a job but he had turned it down. “Of course, not Sherlock.”

“Then why? Moriarty?”

John’s mouth hung open with the information Sherlock had on his clients, James Moriarty had been his first client and was rather pushy with stalker tendencies that John didn’t like. He had told James first that he was retiring.

“Sherlock, stop, this is not about my clients, and remind me later to ask how you knew them as that is a huge boundary you’ve crossed.” Sherlock rolls his eyes but doesn’t speak, “This is about me, my age, and how little I enjoy this job anymore.”

That provoked a reaction from Sherlock, he stood as his face contorted with anger and disgust and John thought, pain. “Well then I don’t know why you are even here, retire if you like. I’ll leave you alone as I am so un-enjoyable.” Sherlock threw a wad of cash on the table and stomped into the bath, slamming the door.

John sat frozen, what had just happened? This was not how John had planned this talk to go. Sherlock still didn’t understand; he didn’t know that he was the last client; he didn’t know why he was the last client. John wanted to cry but refused. John had never fancied himself gay, straight, or bi. In his opinion, you fell for who you fell for. And John Watson had fallen for Sherlock Holmes, hard. It could have been that first night when they sat awake, John combing through Sherlock’s hair as he lay on John’s chest and described his favorite cases. It could have been the week after when he had laughed at Sherlock for the first time about his mind palace and Sherlock had pouted all night. John knew Sherlock whisking him off on cases almost every time they saw each other helped. He had started to take the next day off when he knew he had a night with Sherlock booked because he would be up all night, whether that was chasing criminals or other activities.

He did remember the day he finally admitted it to himself, it was the same day he met the elder Holmes.  
\--------------------------------------------------------  
He was walking home, a bruise on his cheek and a scratch down his back. The bruise had been John’s gift from a professional wrestler for being the distraction Sherlock needed to break into a flat and the scratches had been his gift from Sherlock for being the distraction he needed to break into a flat. John was smiling, knowing Sherlock loved leaving marks on him that wouldn’t fade so his other clients would see them. That’s when he noticed a beautiful woman leaning against a black car, staring at him.

He raised an eyebrow at her and she smiled, “Your presence has been requested Dr. Watson.” She looked John up and down and John had the modesty to blush. Sherlock liked his doctor’s outfit.

“I’m sorry?”

“Just get in the car, now. You will regret it if you don’t.”

John shivered and did as she said out of curiosity more than fear.

Once inside he looked over at the woman who typed away on her phone, “Do you have a name?”

She glanced at him and then up at the roof of the car like she was thinking, “Let’s go with Anthea.”

John rolled his eyes and sat back. He was taken to an empty ware-house where a man sat with an umbrella over his lap.

“Ah, Mr.Watson, nice to finally meet you.” The man smiled with fake sincerity, “Please take a seat.” The man, John would come to know as Mycroft motioned to a chair that sat across from him.

John stood behind, bracing himself against the back of it, “I’d rather not obey the instructions of someone who just kidnapped me thanks.”

Mycroft cocked his head, “You are not afraid of me.”

“I’ve seen a lot of scary things.”

“Yes, I’m very sure.”

“Who are you?” John nearly yelled, tired from his night and not willing to play this man’s games.

“Sherlock would probably label me his archenemy, he is childish like that, but I am merely a concerned man. I have brought you here to offer you money in exchange for keeping me updated on his activities.”

John scrunched his nose, this weird guy wanted to know about Sherlock’s sex life why?

Mycroft’s face morphed into disgust, “No, not like that, John, I meant the cases he takes you on and such.”

“Don’t call me John” He bit back fiercely, feeling a strange need to protect Sherlock, “And I don’t take bribes.”

With that John turned and marched towards the car. He stopped when he heard a chuckle come from behind him, “Oh, my dear, I’m afraid my assistant was right.”

He looked at the woman who was not Anthea and she was smiling smugly.

John turned back to the man who was now standing, walking with his umbrella, towards John. John hated each click it made on the hard ground. Mycroft came to stand a foot from John, “You’ve fallen for him, and after three weeks?”

John froze about to spit back a retort when it dawned on him that the man was right. John hadn’t fallen for anyone in so long he had missed the signs and now it was too late.

“Do not make a mistake, John, Sherlock does not do love.” He began to walk away and swung his umbrella dismissively at John, “Trust if anyone would know, it would be me.”

John slammed the door of the car and bitingly told Anthea to take him back to the hotel. He knew Anthea would tell the man but he didn’t care. No one was at the reception desk so John swiped a card and headed to the special elevator. 

He banged on the door loudly until Sherlock swung it open; ready to yell at whomever it was only to stop short. “John? What happened?”

John barged in and turned on Sherlock quickly, “Why was I just propositioned to be a spy concerning you?!” John was mad at how little he knew.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Really, Mycroft has no boundaries.” Sherlock swung the door shut dramatically.

“Mycroft? Sherlock are you in trouble, is there something you aren’t telling me?”

Sherlock studied John for a long moment, “And what if I was?”

“Sherlock!” John bit through his teeth.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and ran a hand through John’s hair, “Mycroft is my brother, and also the British government and I believe you would describe him as a right prick.”

John tried not to smile, reveling in Sherlock’s touch, “Well I could tell that last part from five minutes with him.”

Sherlock lightly pulled John’s hair so he was looking at him, “What did he say?”

John swallowed, he was not about to tell a client that he had crossed the worst line he could in his business and fallen for the mad man, “Just, just, that he wanted me to spy on you.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, “That’s all?”

John nodded tightly once, unsure of what he would do if Sherlock pushed the issue.

He finally loosened his grip, “Well did you say you would do it?”

“Of course not!” John said with indignation.

Sherlock shrugged, “Shame, I’m sure he would have paid you well.”

“One of the Holmes brother’s paying me for services is enough thank you.”

Sherlock smiled wickedly, “Speaking of which, I do have some extra cash lying around and you are already here...”

John smiled and pulled Sherlock into a passionate kiss, oh yes, he had fallen for Sherlock Holmes. But Mycroft had been right, a brother would know if their sibling loved or not and he had said Sherlock incapable of it.  
\-------------------------------------------------------  
John frowned back in the present, suddenly angry. John was in love with a man that could not love him back and Sherlock was the one to get to storm off? John had lied about why he had retired to everyone, including himself. John was tired of sleeping alone, dreaming about Sherlock’s head on his chest. John was tired of having to imagine Sherlock every time he met a new client. For once in his life, John Watson wanted to save himself for one person.

John marched to the door and hit it with his fist, “Sherlock Holmes, get your arse out here right now! We are going to talk about this!”

John heard Sherlock growl inside, “No, go on and check off the rest of your clients that are so un-enjoyable for you!”

“You’re the only client I have left!” John screeched, hoping maybe this would give the genius a clue.

The door swung open and John was knocked back by the pure anger in Sherlock’s face, “Oh I see, save the worst for last right? Tell the freak how terrible in bed he is, since you don’t have to cater to his ego anymore, it’ll be a laugh!”

“Sherlock are you really that thick? When have I ever catered to your ego? Hell, Sherlock, I yell at you more than the yard does!”

Sherlock stopped short at that because of course John was right. He folded his arms and turned to stone. John felt his whole body slump at the look on Sherlock’s face, “Why are you still here? I have given you enough money to last all day but all I requested was that you leave.”

“Well you better take back the money because I’m not going anywhere until you understand.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Please John, I’m the smartest detective in the world, what is it exactly that I have missed?”

“Sentiment!” John yelled and stormed back to the living room, glad to have the upper hand.

He grabbed the wad of money and chucked behind him, knowing Sherlock had followed. He sat, realizing he was only wearing pants, “You said save the worst for last but that is not the correct sentiment, Sherlock, what is?”

Sherlock stood there, frozen, holding the money. He dropped it and sat on the far end of the couch, away from John, with his knees folded up so his chin rested on them. He suddenly looked very vulnerable, “The best.” He whispered.

“What was that you wanker?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “I said the best, save the best for last.”

John put his hands under his chin, mocking Sherlock, “Hmm, maybe you are a genius after all.”

Sherlock growled again, “You said you are retiring because you find your job un-enjoyable. I am a part of your job. Measuring me as the least un-enjoyable is hardly a rave review.”

John shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, how had they gotten so off track; “Since when do you care about reviews Sherlock?”

“I don’t from anyone else, but you are—different.” He said simply.

John wiped a hand over his eyes and looked over at Sherlock, “I don’t want to be sleeping with any number of clients when I have someone at home waiting for me.”

Sherlock’s head rose, “You aren’t seeing anyone, I would know.”

“Not yet but Sherlock I’m sitting here in my pants, despite the fact that you have been a complete arse, and have just given back the money you have given me for sex. What do you think those variables mean?”

Sherlock looked lost for a second before standing and grabbing the money off the ground. He stares at it in his hands for a second before handing toward John.

“Sherlock!”

“Count the money John.”

“I know my own rate, Sherlock.”

“Trust me.” Sherlock says and his eyes are shining so bright that John has no option but to take the money.

He pulls the rubber band off slowly and unfolds the cash to count it but when he does something falls out of the middle into his lap. He sets the money aside and picks up the object. It is two keys that John holds close to inspect as they both have inscriptions. The first, the larger key reads 221. And the second key reads B.

John looks up at Sherlock, confusion in his face. Sherlock looks down, embarrassed. “It’s a flat on Baker Street, I’ve decided to move there. I helped the owner a while back so the rent is low but there are two bedrooms so she requested that I get a flat mate.”

“If I lived with you I hardly think I would have my own room.” John said cautiously.

“Of course. I chose the flat because I want the second room to be a lab of sorts so I needed someone to share an apartment with me and be okay sleeping in the same bed though I doubt I will sleep often. You said you like violin once…”

John set the keys on the table and began to crawl towards Sherlock, “You will be in bed every single night, sleeping or not.” By the end John’s lips are only inches away from Sherlock’s but he pauses, “but before you really offer this to me Sherlock, you have to know something.”

Sherlock’s eyes are closed and he is angry that John won’t just kiss him, “mmm” he murmurs.

“I’m in love with you, Sherlock Holmes.” Sherlock’s eyes snap open, “And if I move in with you it will be as your boyfriend and nothing else.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Well of course John, what did you think? I wanted a live in prostitute?”

John shook his head and looked down, “I’m not like you Sherlock, I need to hear things, I can’t just deduce like you can.”

“John Watson,” Sherlock says, cradling John’s face and staring into his eyes, “Since you came into my life it has been so much better, you are the mystery that I will never solve and only you could make that bearable for me. I love you, my dear Watson, and I would like to move in with you as my boyfriend. Now would you please shut up and kiss me.”

And John did. He slid his tongue into Sherlock’s mouth and bit his lower lip the way he knew Sherlock loved. Sherlock moaned and his grip tightened in John’s hair, “What have you done to me Watson? I don’t think I could live without you. I thought I had lost you before I could even tell you.”

John moaned into Sherlock’s neck, “I could barely make it into the elevator, I was so afraid you’d say I was just your prostitute.”

Sherlock growls and suddenly John has been picked up and they are walking to the bedroom, “Sherlock!” John yells though he isn’t upset at all.

Sherlock sets him on the bed and begins to unbutton his shirt, “I am going to prove to you that you are not and have never been just my prostitute.”

And with that John pulled Sherlock down and ripped the rest of the buttons off Sherlock’s shirt as their mouths tangled together.


End file.
